If someone where to open me up

they’d find a little haunted city.

 

First they’d see a graveyard,

holding all the love

that has died within me.

Stones marking the best parts of myself,

turned grey from suffocation,

deemed unworthy.

Like young and hopeful children

promised the world,

but a world not kind enough,

not fragile enough

to keep them.

Love that could have saved everything,

but ran poisonous instead.

 

Next they’d see the shadowy buildings,

where a monster lurks

under each stairway,

behind every door,

and around all corners.

A perfect place for nightly walks,

when sleep is unkind and the bed is cold.

The monsters smell my fear and know my loneliness.

I am found,

and I am punished.

 

Lastly, they would discover a big, gaping

hole.

My body has warped around it,

trying to heal,

to fill itself.

But the edges are cracked and bleeding,

and the empty space throbs,

a little like starvation.

They would see how a body is attracted to what destroys it.

 

Don’t read the gravestones.

Don’t enter the buildings.

Don’t fall down the pit.

Leave me unopened.

 

 

 

 

 

*disclaimer: i am a writer and therefore angsty and dramatic. please take my words lightly.